And so it begins, again,
that urge to shrink from
the cool touch of machines;
the hushed offices,
the looks of concern,
the competent compassion.
Maddening, imprecise precision–
“the blood test found something, we
need to do more tests…..
something’s there
on her scans…”
a blurry, thicker patch there,
spots on bone, lung, breast, too.

…shooting up the veins of the heart city, – a hundred miles an hour – as a a good junkie does well, and I can tell, that, despite admiration, I am fated for hell & yet oh well I don’t mind where all the ground fell while I was staring up at you through this miraculous well, and you were bankrupt before you decided to sell, and at your coffin, coughing casualties at commiserating children kissing flowers, praying by the hour, to not tower thus so high that one falls and usurps vitality, – power which dwindles stale & dwindles thus more sour; as if in high

Over and over on a Ferris wheel, she will not come down,
have her meal, will not admit that she is afraid
that the contraption revolving around her heart may one day die.

She’d rather sit there, all hours, observe the heights
and the tops of towers, reach her fingertips up as she drops
to brush the illusions, feel the felt and wool of a god’s eyelash
she dreamt of the night before.

To think, you’re finally here with me!
After years of relentless, flirtatious banter,
Sometimes as playful as puppies, we were:
Other times more serious than a snake bite–
Always fruitless my affections were.

Unattainably distant, you seemed to me.
A hazy speck just beyond the horizon,
Across the ocean of my life.
And I, stranded on my little island,
Couldn’t possibly build a smoke signal
Tall enough to alert your look-out.